


Trying for Emeralds

by Tathrin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, HP: Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hogwarts, Post - Deathly Hallows, Quidditch, School, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tathrin/pseuds/Tathrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their third year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and best friends Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy are ready to try-out for the Slytherin Quidditch team, even though it means that if they succeed, Albus will be flying against his older brother and the rest of his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying for Emeralds

  


It was the very last day of September, which was also the last Saturday of the month and, most importantly of all, it was the day of Quidditch try-outs for the Slytherin team. This was an especially important try-out, because three of Slytherin’s players—one of whom had been not just the Seeker but the Captain of the team as well—had all graduated at the end of last year. They’d lost the Cup, but only by the very skin of their teeth, to Ravenclaw. No one was happy about that, least of all their new captain who, surprising everyone except for the Slytherins, was Fourth Year student Vaisey.

Everyone _else_ had been surprised because who goes around making Fourth Years captains, really, especially when there are other, older players the role ought to go to. Slytherin had not been surprised because the whole House knew that Vaisey had practically been a co-captain last year anyway, albeit unofficially.

Also, Vaisey was more than a bit frightening.

So the crowd that milled out of the castle for try-outs was a bit more subdued than these things usually were. In amongst the crowd, looking nervous and sickly, were best friends Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy. Both were in their Third Year and both were clutching the handles of their racing brooms with sweaty hands. They kept meeting one another’s eyes and trying to grin bracingly. It just made them look like they had rather upset stomachs. They were pretty sure they wouldn’t be making the team but had come to try anyway.

They’d both tried out last year, too, of course, not expecting anything to come of it but knowing they couldn’t live with themselves if they didn’t at least _try_. That wouldn’t have been so bad—second years almost _never_ made the House teams, the only one to do so for Slytherin in the last ten years had been Vaisey herself, and that had been a shock and a scandal-and-a-half, so they could have both quite cheerfully lived with an unsuccessful Second Year try-out and put it down to experience, if it hadn’t been for James Potter.

Albus’s older brother, James, was a Gryffindor, and was everything the Potter family could have hoped for and a little bit more. Loud, cheeky, and more rambunctious and trouble-prone than was good for him or for Gryffindor’s standing in the Points race for House Cup, James Potter was a chip, everyone said, off of his namesake’s block. Harry and Ginny were both smashingly proud and often frustrated with their eldest son. Most of the teachers quite liked him, too, despite his penchant for attracting detentions and goofing off in lessons. James was a cheerful, unabashed troublemaker, and usually when he lost points or accumulated punishments, the teacher that was scolding him couldn’t help but smile, just a little, at his antics.

Albus, by contrast, was a quiet boy who shuffled more often than he swaggered, and actually liked reading and schoolwork and his favorite class was the slow, careful Potions lessons in the dungeon. James’s favorite class, aside from Care of Magical Creatures where he got to run around outside with Hagrid, was whichever class was the day’s last. But of course, the biggest difference between the two brothers had nothing to do with personality and everything to do with appearance. They looked a good bit alike—there was no mistaking them as relatives, anyway—with their freckles and their gangly height and messy hair, although Albus’s was black where James’s was a dark red. It wasn’t the hair or the round glasses that set Albus apart, though: It was the colors he wore.

James, like most of their sprawling Weasley family, dressed in the red and gold of Gryffindor. Their dad and mom had both been in Gryffindor as well, along with all their aunts—or all the ones that had gone to Hogwarts, anyway—their uncles, their newly Sorted little sister, many of their cousins, and both sets of grand-parents. Red was just the color of the family, generally speaking, and not only in reference to most of their hair.

Albus dressed in green.

And as anyone who has studied either color theory or Hogwarts’ history knows well, green and red are as opposite as two colors can get.

So when James made his House’s Quidditch team his second year at school, and then Albus didn’t, it was just one more point on James’s side, one more thing he could mock his little brother for. It didn’t help, of course, that their dad had been one of very few students ever to make a House Quidditch team his very first year at school, or that he had been a Seeker and so was James. It didn’t help that mum was such a brilliant Chaser she’d played professionally for years and was now senior Quidditch correspondent for the _Daily Prophet_. Their family was big into Quidditch, and everyone had been so excited when James made the team—everyone but Albus, who alone of all the Weasleys and Potters was rooting for the green team that played against his brother.

And now he was hoping to be _on_ that team. Albus watched nervously as the rest of the potentials filed out onto the field. He looked around, then wished he hadn’t. Quite a lot of Slytherin students were scattered around the stadium seats surrounding the pitch, come to watch the try-outs. There were some students from the other Houses as well, but not very many. Most of the observers were dressed in green.

One of the ones who wasn’t waved furiously to Albus: Rose Weasley, his favorite cousin and the relation he felt closest to, despite her traditional red garb. Even from this distance Albus could tell that Rose was grinning broadly. He swallowed and gave her a weak little wave in return. Then his heart skipped out from under him and went rolling across the pitch like a deflated Quaffle. There, sitting a few rows away from Rose, were more Gryffindors, and another relative: James, come with his usual assortment of Fourth and Fifth Year Gryffindor boys to watch their rival’s try-outs and, no doubt, heckle and mock Albus as much as they possibly could.

Someone nudged Albus in the ribs and he looked down to see Scorpius standing next to him, pointing determinedly towards the other end of the stands. “Look,” Scorpius said loudly, “there’s the Ravenclaw team come to watch, I think your cousin’s trying to get your attention.” He was quite obviously just trying to distract Albus, having no doubt noticed James as well, but the Ravenclaws were indeed over there and his cousin was with them.

Dominique Weasley, one of the few to bear that surname and not wear the gold and red that went with it, stood up in the stands and blew a good-luck kiss in Albus’s direction. A few boys sitting near her turned around and stared longingly. Dominique seemed not to notice and sat back down, chatting with Ravenclaw’s captain, Fatima Davies. Dominique was an astonishingly pretty young witch with pale strawberry-blond hair and enough Veela blood in her to cause the occasional scuffle. She was tall and thin and very delicate looking but she had played Beater on the Ravenclaw team ever since she took over the position upon her older sister’s graduation and by now Dominique, like Victoire, had broken even more noses than she had hearts.

Then Albus stopped paying attention to the stands at all because with an almighty crash a large, heavy box thudded onto the ground at the prospective players’ collective feet. There were a few gasps and yelps and the box rattled as if something inside were trying to escape. That would be the bludgers, Albus thought weakly. He looked up to where the box had fallen from and saw Vaisey hovering high above them on her sleek black racing broom. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid and she was grinning gleefully, her steely eyes glinting as if she were enjoying picturing the carnage that she was about to unleash upon them all.

Vaisey slowly descended upon her prey like a great green bird. “Right then, children,” she said, despite being only a Fourth Year herself and half the pitch crowded with students older than she was. “Ready to see who’s good enough to play for me, are we?”

Albus clutched his broom and looked around at the other hopefuls. He felt very young and very short until he looked at Scorpius, who stood a good three heads shorter than the handle of his broom and was busy looking pale and at least as worried as Albus felt. Scorpius’s dad had been on his House’s team too when he was in school, Albus remembered, so Scor undoubtedly felt that he had a reputation to live up to, just as Albus did.

Everyone else seemed to be looking around at each other as well, the Seventh and Sixth Years trying to pretend like they weren’t intimidated by the fourteen-year-old-girl floating in front of them, then there was an uneven bobbing as heads nodded in nervous affirmatives. Vaisey’s grin spread wider and fiercer.

“Excellent,” she said, her voice a cheerful hiss. Albus noticed that the pockets of her robes were bulging and dragging heavily on the fabric, as if they had been stuffed full of rocks or something similar. She was also holding a Beater’s bat loosely in one hand. Albus tried not to find this terrifying but it was hard.

“All right,” Vaisey ordered, “everyone into the air, and don’t bunch up. Fly around and I’ll inspect your form. If I tell you to land, come stand back here by the box. Which you won’t be touching,” she added cheerfully. “If I tell you to get out, get out. It means you’re done and if I see you clogging up my airspace after I tell you to scarper, I’ll make you get out.” Even the Seventh Years looked a bit worried at the threat. Vaisey was not typically a person one wanted to mess with, but she was especially not a person to mess with when she was on the Quidditch pitch. Her first year as Keeper she’d caught a Hufflepuff trying to bewitch one of the quaffles when the referee’s back was turned. He’d spent a month in hospital.

“Well?” Vaisey barked. “What are you all waiting for? Into the air!”

There was a confused shuffle as people standing far too close together all tried to mount their brooms at once. Albus and Scorpius broke off from the main group and shot high into the air to get away from the crowd. They looked down on the knot of people in green robes that slowly disentangled itself into a few clumps of students spiraling through the air aimlessly.

Vaisey kicked off after them all and started looping the pitch, scanning the fliers. “Muggins!” they heard her shout, “you’re flying like my grandmother! Show some spirit, man!”

“Shove off,” the older boy grumbled back loudly, “you know I’m good, I don’t have to even bloody be here.”

“You do if you want to make the team,” Vaisey snapped back. “No guaranteed slots for anyone but me, and that’s just ‘cause I’m in bloody charge, innit?” She reached into her pocket and pulled something out which she tossed into the air and whacked at Muggins with her Beater’s bat.

“Ow!” he bellowed; it appeared to have been a rock. “You hit me!” he shouted stupidly.

“Should have dodged then,” Vaisey retorted. Albus and Scorpius snickered.

Which was a bad idea, as it brought them to Vaisey’s attention. She grinned viciously and started batting rocks. Albus and Scorpius split and spiraled, flying like crazy; finally Albus dived behind a group of three giggly looking Sixth Year girls he couldn’t remember the names of just now. He pulled out and slowed down, looking around. Vaisey was swooping off after someone else, sending rocks flying at students as she passed them. Albus frankly would have rather had the Bludgers, although he had to admit, it was a good way to test for dexterity and reflexes.

He looked around for Scorpius; from the grin on his face and lack of blood or bruising, it seemed he’d also been successful in avoiding Vaisey’s rocks. Albus knew Vaisey was a brilliant Keeper—beyond brilliant, really; she’d stormed her way onto the team her Second Year, and the other Houses had only teased Slytherin for their itty-bitty baby Keeper until their first match—but, he decided, watching her whack rocks at his fellow hopefuls, she would have made a decent Beater, too. At the least she seemed to have the temperament for it. Vaisey’s pale cheeks were flushed happily as she sent rocks winging at her Housemates.

A few students left the field without being told to, most of them bleeding or rubbing places where rocks had hit them. More sulked off at Vaisey’s command, some of them stomping straight back to the Common Room and some of them finding seats in the stands to watch the rest of the try-outs. A few of the better fliers Vaisey sent down to wait by the box with the Quidditch balls. Albus almost fell off his broom when she told him to go be one of them. Scorpius, looking windswept and gleeful, joined him there a few moments later. They grinned at each other like idiots; they hadn’t made the team yet, not by far, but still, they’d made it _this_ far, so maybe…

At last Vaisey sent the last of the fliers off to their respective destinations and swooped down in front of the much smaller crowd gathered by the Quidditch equipment. “Right,” she said, “time for some _serious_ work, you lot—” She stopped, frowning. “ _You_ ,” she snapped, pointing her Beater’s bat at an unlucky Seventh Year boy. “You’re not supposed to be here.” He sneered at her but the sneer froze when she stalked over, glared up at him, and placed her bat right under his chin. “Clear off my pitch,” she ordered.

He opened his mouth to say something, looked at the Fourth Year girl glowering up at him, and apparently thought better of it. He kicked the box on his way, but stalked off the field without argument. Vaisey’s eyes were narrowed on his back the whole walk to the distant stands. “Anyone else what isn’t supposed to be here,” she said quietly, not moving, “better clear off now.”

Two pouting Sixth Year girls and one dark-skinned First Year boy—Zabini’s younger brother, whose first name Albus couldn’t remember—slunk off the pitch quietly. Vaisey watched them go, arms crossed. “Well,” she said crossly. “Any more of you tossers don’t think you can obey orders, you can shove off as well.”

No one moved. Vaisey turned to Scorpius. “You,” she said, pointing with the bat. Scorpius jumped, face pale; Albus took a step backwards. Surely she wasn’t going to say that Scor wasn’t meant to be here? But no, she continued, pointing at two other students. “And you, and you. You’re one team of Chasers. You, you, and you,” she said, pointing last of all to Albus, “you’re the other team. Up in the air and try and steal the Quaffle from one another to score. You and you,” she selected two more students, “you’re being Keepers. I don’t care which side you pick.” Vaisey bent down and opened the box. She pulled out a Quaffle and tossed it up into the air.

Albus kicked off quickly, following his impromptu team down the pitch. He wished Vaisey had put him and Scorpius on the same side; it was awkward playing with people that you’d never flown with before, and Albus knew he wasn’t showing his abilities to their best since he was trying to figure out how his two teammates played.

He didn’t have to worry for too long, though; each side had only scored a handful of times before Vaisey waved them off and sent up new teams in their place. Albus and Scorpius watched two more groups play before she sent them up again, this time flying side by side. Albus grinned, swooping through the air; now _this_ was proper flying. He and Scorpius were even matches, every bit as fast and as adept as the other, and even better than that, they actually played _well_ together, knowing where to be and when to break and where to pass and when to throw. They’d played together often enough over the summer, usually just the two of them on Scorpius’s extensive family grounds where Muggles were unlikely to catch sight of them, but occasionally enough with groups that they could play with as well as against one another. They’d even been in a few impromptu games with fellow students above the school lawns. (Once inadvertently against James and his friends, but Albus didn’t like to remember that.) Better to concentrate on flying and on now.

They soared down the pitch, the third in their team left a bit bewildered and trying to catch up: a Fifth Year girl who didn’t corner very well but had a great throwing arm. Albus hesitated for half a second on his way to the goal hoops; the student coming up to block him was a big, burly Sixth Year, and one whom Albus had run into more than once and never in a good way: Pollux Muggins, looking positively gleeful at the chance to try and knock both Albus and Scorpius off their brooms.

Albus frowned and put on more speed, determined not to give him any opening. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scorpius spin into a complicated loop that sent two of their opponents streaking off to opposite sides of the pitch as they narrowly avoided running head-on into one another trying to catch him. Albus grinned and dove straight at Muggins. Right before they met he tossed the Quaffle past the bigger student. Scorpius snatched it up and sent it through the nearest hoop while the erstwhile Keeper was busy gawking at the collision that was avoided by the narrowest of margins as Albus tucked his elbows in and dropped so close below Muggins that robes slapped his face.

Then there was a sharp tug on _his_ robes, and Albus stopped in midair, his broom almost shooting completely out from under him before he could stop it. He twisted, trying to pull himself back on properly, and realized that he was dangling from his robes, the end of which was firmly clamped in Muggins’s thick hands. The older boy grinned.

“Great flying, Potter,” he said.

Albus struggled, trying to get more than one leg over his broom; he was going to slip off any minute now, he knew, and there was no way that Muggins was going to be nice enough to hold on and lower him gently to the very, very far away ground. “Wish I could say the same about you,” Albus grunted, his words a bit choked by the fact that all his weight was currently being held up by the cloth under his arms.

Muggins had opened his mouth to reply when a pale green and blond blur slammed into him upside the head. He howled and released Albus, who tried to throw himself onto his broom but couldn’t quite manage it and instead just ended up dropping fast with it clutched in one hand, his knee still slung over the handle but quickly slipping off. Then the blur, which was of course Scorpius Malfoy, caught Albus by the shoulders and heaved him back onto his broom.

“Thanks,” Albus gasped, panting for air. Scorpius nodded but didn’t say anything; he couldn’t have even if he’d meant to, because suddenly there was Vaisey, eyes flashing and now in addition to the bat in one hand she was holding her wand in the other, guiding her broom with her knees.

“Muggins!” she bellowed. “ _Foul!_ That’s a bloody foul, you tosser! Get off my pitch!”

Muggins sputtered, pointing to Albus and Scorpius, and the goal ring behind them, and to himself, and seemed to be trying to explain how it was all Albus’s fault, and it had been an accident, and if Albus hadn’t run into him he never would have quite innocently gotten tangled in his robes, and he hadn’t meant to—

But Vaisey was having none of it. She smacked him right between the eyes with a jet of red light that left a steadily growing boil and the smell of scorched meat behind. Muggins yelped and slapped his hands to his face. He dove blindly for the ground, trying to get there before the boil swelled up to completely obscure his vision. Albus caught sight of two large Sixth Years scrambling down from the stands towards the jinxed bully.

Vaisey grinned smugly and slipped her wand back into her robes. “No fouling on _my_ pitch,” she muttered. Then she glanced at the two Third Years. “Nice teamwork,” she told them, and then looking at Scorpius, “and nice save.”

They stammered thanks but she had already flown off to prod the next group into motion. Albus and Scorpius headed for the ground, which Albus was rather more pleased to see than he usually was. He caught sight of Rose over in the stands and waved to show her he was all right; she was too far away for him to be sure, but he thought she looked sort of worried. Certainly she was standing up on her bench and staring at him.

Albus decided he’d sit down for a bit, not that his legs were exactly trembling, but just because he figured the ground would be fantastically comfortable at the moment. Scorpius joined him. They didn’t speak as they watched Vaisey barking orders at their fellow Slytherins.

After just a little while she landed, and so did everyone else. A little more than half of the group split off and slouched away looking grumpy. Albus grinned and looked over at Scorpius, who was wearing the same kind of ecstatic expression. They hadn’t either one of them been cut yet, and there were only twelve people left, aside from Vaisey herself.

Albus and Scorpius scrambled to their feet.

“Right,” said Vaisey. “Now we can get _serious_.”

Albus gulped; what had they been doing before, goofing off?

“I think we’ve just about got ourselves a team,” the witch continued. “In fact, you can all consider yourselves reservists, in case someone gets messed about too much to hit the Pitch when it’s game time. So I want you all practicing on your own, and sometimes with the team—I’ll let you know when—whether you make it on or not.” She glared. “Anyone too bloody proud to handle being a second-stringer can get off my Pitch now, too,” she growled at them. “No ego in Quidditch,” she said; “this is a _team_ sport, and you’ll all play along with one another or I’ll knock you off your brooms myself. Anyone not up for that?”

Albus couldn’t quite meet her eyes; he knew he didn’t have an ego problem, and he was already thrilled enough to have made it this far in try-outs that he’d love the chance to play for the team at all, even as a fill-in. Her glare was just so accusing that he found himself looking at his feet. He wasn’t the only one. Beside him, Scorpius forced himself not to avert his eyes but he was pale and the knuckles wrapped around his broom were white. Still, whether they looked Vaisey in the eye or not, everyone stayed on the Pitch. The captain nodded.

“Right,” she said. “So, the final cut.” She pointed at them all one-by-one with the end of her sleek broom. She said only the position she wanted each prospective student to play and motioned them to one end of the field or the other. Scorpius and Albus were both picked for chaser along with Suellen Howel, a short-haired girl in their year, and Lilah Harper who was a year older.

With the hexing and banishment of Muggins the beater, there were few students left who had been on the team before. Eric Clawson, Seventh Year chaser; Harold Taylor, another chaser, although in Sixth Year; and of course, Vaisey herself. The two chasers still had to try out, though, and Albus was extremely nervous to find himself playing against the both of them. They were older, and better, and had been on the team for years.

His heart found its way down to his muddy shoes. There was no way he was making the team now. He caught Scorpius’s eye and shrugged helplessly; at least they’d gotten close. But Scorpius’s face was set in fierce determination. His friend wasn’t ready to give up yet—well then, neither was Albus. Besides, a team needed three chasers; one of them, at least, could still make it, and would if Albus could do anything to see to it.

The teams kicked off into the air, both of them lacking Keepers although Vaisey had given the two potential Seekers permission to interfere; she would not be releasing the snitch yet. Once the teams were decided, she would test the Seekers separately. Albus figured that she was probably being sneaky, though, and intended to see how observant the two possible Seekers were through underhanded means like tossing the snitch out mid-game or something equally devious. He was glad he wasn’t trying to make that position. He didn’t much like playing Seeker, and he especially wouldn’t have wanted to land himself in the same position as James. Better to be a chaser and actually get to play in the game rather than circle around it and try to body-block his older brother.

“Hey.” Scorpius’s voice broke his reverie and he looked over at his friend. “Good luck,” the blond boy said.

Albus replied with a smile that he knew was watery. “You too,” he said.

Then that was it because Vaisey had placed two fingers in her mouth and whistled shrilly. She tossed the Quaffle into the air and everything unfolded into action just a hairsbreadth away from pure chaos. At one point Albus caught a bludger across the side of his face; he loudly cursed his glasses, particularly the broken lens. He impatiently scrubbed at the blood with his sleeve and squinted at a world that was suddenly half-hazy.

“Al! Back left!”

Albus turned around at Scorpius’s shout and lunged to grab the Quaffle. “Got it!” he yelled back. “Meet you at the goal!” He swooped off but found himself quickly marked by Taylor, a burly Sixth Year with a build more suited to the role of Beater. Albus rolled on his broom to avoid the first body blow but knew he wouldn’t make it to the goal with Taylor blocking him unless he could outfly the older, more experienced chaser. Albus swallowed then frowned determinedly. He just had to get the Quaffle to the other end of the pitch where Scorpius would be waiting.

Taylor swerved sideways and Albus kept his hold on the Quaffle with fingertips and only luck kept him on his broom. He ducked low to start a fake dive and try to throw his opponent off-track when he noticed a green blur streaking up towards him.

Then Clawson shot between Albus and Taylor, knocking the latter sideways. “I’ve got your back,” the Seventh Year called, “get to goal.”

Albus stared for only a moment as the two Slytherin teammates jostled one another, Taylor’s face lived as he tried to get to Albus through Clawson. Then Albus stopped wasting time and shot towards goal as quickly as he could. Another bludger zipped towards him and this time he managed to dodge it without losing speed.

Scorpius was already circling near the goal rings. He was struggling with Lilah; the Quidditch Pitch was thankfully the one place where Scorpius was sensible enough not to be a gentleman. The sound of flapping robes behind him told Albus that the third chaser, Howel, was coming up fast, but not fast enough. He nodded at Scorpius who abruptly slammed the brakes on his broom; Lilah overshot but managed to corner impressively and swoop backwards. It was too slow, though; Albus had also dropped speed, allowing Howel to crash into him to keep her out of the way. Scorpius snatched the Quaffle and tossed it smoothly into the center ring. Then a bludger caught him on the back of his pale head and he wilted on his broom.

Albus yelped and quickly reversed tactics to try and free himself from Howel but he’d done too good a job of tangling the two of them together in the first place. He knew he wouldn’t be able to catch his friend in time.

But Vaisey could. The Keeper shot past Albus and grabbed the dazed boy by the back of his robes. She was only a year older, but she was already considerably taller than Scorpius and easily hauled him back onto his broom. Scorpius shook his head groggily and Albus breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled free of Howel and dropped down to Vaisey and his stunned friend.

“What did you do,” the captain was asking, “go blind and miss the bludger heading your way?”

“Uhh…no,” Scorpius mumbled, gingerly rubbing the back of his head. “Saw it.”

“So what, you just got stupid or you have a liking for pain?”

Scorpius shook his head then went pale, clearly regretting the motion. Albus hovered next to his friend, ready to catch him if he slipped off his broom. “Had the Quaffle,” Scorpius muttered. “Knew I could get it in before, uhh…Lilah got back. Thought I’d still be able to dodge the bludger…maybe.” He winced and gingerly touched the back of his head. “Clearly I was too slow.”

The rest of the students trying out had gathered around, the Quaffle forgotten at the edge of the pitch where it had come to a stop following Scorpius’s throw.

“Huh,” said Vaisey. Then she smiled. “Brilliant,” she said. “Stupid, but brilliant. All right,” she turned to look at all of them, “I think we’re done here.” She headed for the ground, followed swiftly by anxious students. Albus and Scorpius descended at a slower pace, Albus carefully watching his friend on the way down. He seemed to be shaking off the blow, and at least there didn’t appear to be any blood, but he was definitely still dazed.

They joined the others on the ground, Scorpius stumbling on the landing. Two of the potential Beaters, Bletchley and Smith, were both wiping blood from their clubs off on Smith’s robes, although she seemed to be as of yet unaware that Bletchley was doing so. They were both tall and weedy, not at all the normal build for Slytherin’s Beaters, who tended to be designed along the lines of Hagrid with the purpose being of making them not just Beaters, but oversized Bludgers themselves. The other two Beaters trying out were much more standard and looked like they could each break Albus in two with one hand if they felt upset. He recognized them as Sixth Years but couldn’t remember their names. Neither one spoke much in their Common Room. Scorpius would know who they were, though; Scorpius seemed to know the name of everyone in their House along with their family lineage back seven to twenty generations depending on their pedigree.

Albus wasn’t going to ask just now, though. He’d probably get their names when Vaisey appointed them to the team…although Bletchley and Smith did have bloody bats, which spoke well to their chances despite their scrawny builds. Albus wondered if they’d actually hit anyone with their bats, or if the blood had simply been returned to them by a Bludger. Certainly he wasn’t the only one there bleeding from contact with the heavy balls. Smith noticed Bletchley using her robes to clean his bat and poked him hard in the ribs with hers. He sat down very quickly, doubled over. The other two Beaters laughed, one of them clapping Smith on the shoulder, which almost knocked her into the grass as well. Vaisey had sent them up with one of each type to a team; maybe she was going to try something new?

The two Seekers stood a ways apart, looking bored. They weren’t done yet; their most important part of the tryout was still to come. Putting them on the Pitch with the other players had probably just been Vaisey’s way of keeping them busy, or maybe of seeing how well they did avoiding the standard hazards of the Quidditch Pitch, like elbows and Bludgers and other people’s brooms. Last year Hufflepuff had lost a match because their Seeker had become too intent on the snitch he was diving after and hadn’t realized that he was diving not so much through as _into_ one of the goal hoops. Gryffindor’s Seeker had easily snatched the snitch while Hufflepuff’s was dangling insensate halfway through the hoop. Vaisey probably wanted to make sure nothing that embarrassing would ever happen to their House.

The other Chasers were nearby, Taylor and Clawson slouching confidently. Howel and Harper both looked nervous and very disheveled. Howel gave Albus an amused glare after she tapped her glasses with a quick _reparo_ to fix them; had he broken them when he’d made her slam into him to keep her from interfering with Scorpius scoring? He felt bad about that, remembered that the reason the world looked funny was that his own glasses were broken, and pulled them off his nose to do a spell of his own. He ignored the blood crusting the formerly broken side; he’d clean all that up later.

Scorpius had meanwhile stepped over to Harper and was saying something apologetic. She seemed to have acquired a black eye while she was trying to block him from goal. She blushed and laughed and told him not to be stupid; an accidental elbow in someone’s eye socket was nothing to flinch over in Quidditch—that was just how the game was. Albus grinned ruefully; that was Scorpius, always the old-fashioned gentleman. Except on the Pitch, where he’d elbow you in the eyeball and not blink, although he would then be certain to come and make the appropriate apology afterwards. If he wasn’t his best friend, Albus would have mocked him endlessly for that.

Clawson had the Quaffle tucked under his arm. He handed it to Vaisey with a low question, but she didn’t answer. They both looked bruised and Taylor had a streak of blood on his forehead but their injuries didn’t seem to be enough to bother them. Of course, they’d been on the team for a few years, and some minor Bludger hits wouldn’t even register after all their experience.

Albus tried not to feel too disappointed. He and Scorpius could always try out again next year. And they were reservists at least, so maybe they would still get to play in a match or two. At least they’d get to practice with the team, and the cruel mockery he’d get from James for it would be nothing new.

They waited while Vaisey tucked the Quaffle and Bludgers back into their chest. She turned around and nodded proudly. “Good show,” she told them. “I’ll let you know when I want the reservists at practice. You know your positions already; the team will be Warrington, Clawson, Malfoy, Potter, Bletchley, and Smith.”

“What?” yelped the disappointed Seeker, Fourth Year Phineas Mazarin. “But what about the separate Seeker try-out?”

“Already did it,” said Vaisey. “Warrington?”

Ursula Warrington, a weedy Sixth Year, stepped forward and held out a closed fist to Vaisey. The captain took the snitch and tucked the small, limply struggling gold ball into its place in the chest. “I tossed the blighter out a bit before Malfoy mistook his head for a Beater’s bat,” she said. “Warrington snatched it while you were busy flitting around your goal posts trading witticisms with Smith.”

“But—but you said we were supposed to watch the goals!” Mazarin protested.

Vaisey shook her head. “No,” she said, “I told you that you _could_ interfere with scoring like a Keeper does. I never told you that you _ought_ to, or to ignore your more important duty.”

“That isn’t fair,” said Mazarin.

Vaisey shrugged. “And Quidditch is?”

“But Ursula guarded her goal posts, too!”

“Yeah,” Vaisey nodded, “but she also kept an eye out like a Seeker’s supposed to. I need someone who’ll be observant the whole time, not just when they’re told to be.”

Mazarin wilted but didn’t protest further.

“Sorry,” Warrington whispered to her competition. He shrugged, eyes downcast.

“Any more disagreements?” Vaisey asked warningly.

“Uhm,” said Albus tentatively, “excuse me?”

“What?”

“Did you, ah, did you say that Scor and I are both on the team?”

“Yeah,” said Vaisey, “but only if you get some goggles or something. Glasses are a liability I won’t have you dealing with in a proper match.”

Albus nodded mutely. There was a strange soaring sensation in his stomach and he found it hard to focus on the captain—on _his_ captain’s—words.

“Go get cleaned up and such, but I’ll want you all to turn up in the Common Room at 19:00 for a word or two. I’ll be posting the practice schedule tonight, too. Don’t miss any,” she growled warningly.

Everyone managed some sort of affirmative. Vaisey dragged the heavy chest of Quidditch equipment upright and balanced it on her broom, but didn’t get to leave the field yet. As Albus was walking away in a daze with Scorpius he glanced back and saw her speaking quietly with Harold Taylor. The conversation was restrained but Albus could tell that it was an unpleasant one by the expressions on their faces. He turned away quickly and realized that he was grinning broadly. He looked over at Scorpius and saw a bewildered, overjoyed expression that probably matched his own.

“We made the team,” he whispered.

“We made the team,” Scorpius repeated.

“We made the team!” Albus cried.

One of them grabbed the other in a hug and they swung around in wild glee. “We made the team!” they yelled together. They stumbled to a breathless halt and grinned stupidly without speaking.

Then a reddish blur impacted with Albus’s side and knocked the wind out of him. “You made the team!” Rose shrieked. “You made the team!”

Albus laughed and rubbed his ribs when Rose released him. She was almost bouncing in her excitement. A second, smaller red blur joined them: Lily, squealing, “Al! Al! Al!” over and over. Albus’s little sister quite literally _was_ bouncing. Lily was in her first year at Hogwarts, was determined to make her own House’s Quidditch team despite the prohibition against First Years, and was a Gryffindor like Rose and James and most of Albus’s sprawling family.

“Hey Lily,” said Albus. “I didn’t even know you were here.”

“Oh yeah,” said Lily, “of course I came to watch you! I was over there.” She pointed towards an end of the stands where a small crowd of giggling First and Second Year Gryffindor girls (and there may have been a few Hufflepuffs mixed in, it was hard to be sure from all the way over here) were climbing down from the stands in a chattering mass.

“Ah,” said Albus, “no wonder I couldn’t spot you.”

Lily elbowed him and giggled. “Well, dummy, I wanted to tell you that was awesome.” She hugged him and stuck her tongue out at Scorpius. “I gotta go!” Lily hugged Albus again and scampered back to her gossiping gaggle.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Honestly,” she muttered.

Albus laughed. “She’s not that bad,” he said.

“Your sister’s insane,” argued Rose.

“Yeah,” said Albus, “but so are the rest of us.” Then the grin came back basically of its own accord. “And we made the team,” he said.

Rose laughed. “You did! It was brilliant!” Then she paused and turned a glance on Scorpius. “Oh,” she said stiffly. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Scorpius replied with a grin, too happy to treat Rose with his normal chill reserve. Right now Albus didn’t care at all that his two best friends would have preferred not to know one another; he slung an arm around each of their shoulders.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s celebrate!”

Rose smiled but disentangled herself from Albus’s embrace. “You guys go ahead,” she said. “I’m sure there’s lots of people who can’t wait to ambush you with their well wishes in your dungeon. I just wanted to give you mine first.”

“Aw, come on Rose…”

“No Albus, go on. I have homework anyway, I just had to come watch you try out.” She grinned. “You did great.”

Albus beamed at the praise. Rose laughed and ran off with a wave. Even when he saw James stalking off the field with his friends and a rude gesture for his little brother, Albus couldn’t stop smiling. He’d made the Quidditch team, and so had his best friend. For the first time in three years, he had something he wanted to write home about that he knew his family would understand.

“We made the team,” he told Scorpius. The other boy grinned. They slung their brooms over their shoulders and made their way together towards the sea of green-clad students eager to meet their new Quidditch players.

Their first real match was only a few weeks away. Albus smiled.

They were going to knock the gold right off the Gryffindors.


End file.
